Tainted
by Laid Bare
Summary: R&R, Femme Slash. Bellatrix-Hermione.Mature. Language. CBA to write a summery. It's dark, its seedy, its a descent into madness...
1. Prologue

Here marks the beginning of my Bellatrix Lestrange fixation. I have three babies. _The Limitations of Love_,_ Rapture: The Bellatrix and Rodolphus Story _and _Tainted. _If you are reading this, then don't blame me for what is about to befall. All I know is that this will be as dark, as seedy and as powerful as Bellatrix Lestrange herself.

**Disclaimer:** Harry Potter characters and their world are not mine, though I WILL go as far as to boast that this idea is of my own creation (with a little inspiration). As always, please read and review.

**Language and Mature/Disturbing scenes**

"_All the ancient classic fairy tales have always been scary and dark."_

_**Helen Bonham Carter**_

The silence within the Malfoy Manor was impenetrable, the great void of noiselessness mocking all those who resided there, pressing heavily, an expectantly hum that taunted to be filled, knowing that it would not. The halls were empty, the lack of life so great that it seemed like a ghost hung over the estate, it looming presence at tangible substance thick and cloying, chocking. It was only the softest of ticks from the archaic grandfather clock, persistently working against the silence, unwilling to allow its fear to stop time itself. But finally it did, for even time itself could not withstand the clout of taciturnity. It was then that screams ripped through the Manor, echoed by manic laughter.


	2. Chapter One: Stolen

**(For those who asked for a longer chapter – I agree, the last was inexcusably short)**

Chapter One: Stolen

_He who has never experienced hurt,_

_cannot experience true love._

~ **Tristan J. Leo**

Dark onyx eyes bore into the whites of a pale blue, a face that seemed bloodless, translucent as it stared in stark horror as small lips curved into as perverse, sadistic smile. "My my my," a soft purr rippled out between a small parting of the lips, dark eyes glinting under the dim lighting. "We didn't seem to like that, did we?" The pale face turned ashen under the intense scrutiny of Bellatrix Lestrange, an alabaster white heart-shaped face framed by long coiling tendrils of dark hair. The small, slight woman leaned down, the soft end of hair brushing against the weathered skin of Garrick Ollivander, causing the old wizard to violently shiver against such a gentle touch, flinching away.

Long fingers, artists fingers, fiddled with a bent, misshapen looking wand, toying with the tip, a darkly amused smile blooming across the small woman's features. His fear was like blood to a shark, one whiff of that pungent, desperate scent and Bellatrix would catch it. Her eyed widened, lips parted, breathing escaping her from small excited gasps. The fingertip that encircled the end of her wand sang with a frenzy of shivers, the feel or rough, worn wood intensified through the titillating sensation that coursed through the raven-haired witch, the depths of her dark eyes bleeding with heat.

One pale finger ran along the length of Ollivander's worn cheek, the pulse beneath warming Bella's chilled skin, another delectable shiver raking through her small body. The finger pause at the old man's chin, hand cupping the prickled skin, harsh stubble against such soft hands. Sharp nails bit into leathered flesh, breaking skin and singing blood to the surface like a siren's call. A small hiss of pain was uttered out of Ollivander's lips, his eyes closing as if ridding the sight of Bellatrix Lestrange would rid the pain itself. The small nails left his skin, leaving crescent moon indentations, already cupping with blood, small beads of red gathering.

With mild interest, Bellatrix examined the red stains on her nails, the smear of crimson on her tips. The contrast was hypnotic, the way such pale skin could glow against the blood, the sensation of liquid warmth against such cool skin, running down like the liquid heat of a lover. Entranced by the sight, the feel, Bellatrix brought her fingers to her lips, a small pink tongue running along the smooth skin, before deeply sucking the blood, eyes fixed on the old man who gazed up at her with such a look of utter revulsion, yet even he could not look away.

For a moment, two eyes locked; pale blue upon onyx black bore into each other with heated looks, of pleasure and of pain. Finally, Bellatrix removed her fingers from her mouth, glistening against the dim eerie lighting, a small girlish giggle escaping her lips. "Did you like that?" she whispered in a breathy voice, eyes glazed over, and small frame swaying to a tune only she could hear. Blinking, Bella smiled, one finger stroking the length of her wand. "It is only the…"

"_Bella!"_ a voice rang out, filling the stillness of the Malfoy Manor, carrying towards the dungeons where the eldest Black sister was. The door opened and light flooded into the room, its sudden harshness causing Bellatrix to wince, the old wand maker to cower away, as if its touch could truly burn him. Narcissa Malfoy stood at the top of the steps, the light from behind surrounding her like a halo, whist Bellatrix looked up from the bowels of Hell, body plagued with shadows. An angel and the Devil. Two extremes yet on the same coin of same kin, same blood.

"What?" Bella demanded, ire flaring within her at her fun being cut short. She glanced at the cowering Ollivander, who lay in a foetal position, clinging to the wall, trying to draw the shadows closer. An uneasy look passed "It's Greyback," Narcissa's voice carried all the way down to Bellatrix. "He claims to have Potter." Under her sister's eyes, Bellatrix froze, every part of her muted, still. The light from above reflected with the dark depths, the smallest glimmer of anticipation deep within. The names stirred within the dungeons, darkly rousing some forgotten feeling within the prisoners, an emotion that they dared not believe. Hope. "Potter?" Bella repeated, voice soft, almost reverent. It was a name that tasted strange on her tongue, an acrid burn mingling with the lingering presence of blood. Their eyes met, silver blue against ebony onyx, silent understanding passing between them.

Wordlessly, Narcissa turned, her willowy shoulders tensed, almost as though she expected a blow from behind. The door closed softly, a small hairline of a crack peeking through, daring to spell such a miniscule of light within the abyss of obscurity. Absently, Bella glanced at the still cowering Ollivander, his thin gangly frame looking pitiful and ragged. Disgusted, Bellatrix swept past him, only to pause by a bound figure half concealed by shadows. Under the intense scrutiny, the figure's slight frame began to fight against its bounds, struggling to escape. "Little Luna," Bella cooed, an artificial tang under the overly sweetened words. Running a pale finger along the soft cheek, Bella smiled indulgently, tucking a stray honeyed curl behind the young witch's ear. "I'll be back for you," Bella promised, knowing that her prisoner could not answer, the silencing spell sealing her lips together.

The crystal chandelier winked against the brilliant glow of the carved marble fireplace, the light of the flames flickering across the rich purple walls. Three figures we surrounded by an array of varying people. The Malfoy family stood in front of the three, a young pale wizard bent, inspecting a swollen face, grey eyes expressionless. "Well?" Lucius asked, his face lined, drawn, yet there was an eager glint to those same grey eyes as his son's. Narcissa hung back, her expression closed off, just as guarded as Draco. "Is it Potter, Draco?" The blonde father persisted when his son Draco did not answer immediately.

"Perhaps…maybe…" Draco frowned, yet did not bother to glance at the face again; instead his eye sought his mothers, already making a move to stand by her side. "Look closer Draco," Lucius Malfoy pressed, moving in front of his son's way, determined for Draco to try again. "If we give the Potter to the Dark Lord…" Lucius gazed heavily on his son. "All would be forgiven."

Non-too discreetly, Greyback cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. "Let's not forget who found Potter, Malfoy." But Lucius waved of the werewolf's comment impatiently, unconcerned. "Yes, yes. Of course." Glancing at Potter, Lucius frowned, studying his face. "What have you done to him?" he demanded. "He looks like he's been hit by a stinging jinx." Light flooded into his grey eyes. "Draco!" he whispered fiercely. "Is that…could that be a scar?" with a vice-like grip on his son's shoulder, Lucius propelled the youngest Malfoy forward until Draco's nose was inches from the swollen, raw forehead, determined for Draco to inspect thoroughly.

"Isn't that the Mudblood?" Narcissa piped up suddenly, blue eyes fixed on a slender brunette with a mass of brown frizzing curls. The Snatcher that held the girl shoved her forward for inspection. Lucius eyed the girl, who struggled under the severe examination of grey eyes. "Yes," he breathed. I'm nearly sure of it – and look Draco! Isn't that Arthur Weasley's boy? What's his name…?" The young Malfoy hardly spared the three a glance, his pale gaze stubbornly fixed on the crackling fames of the orange fire. "Yeah," he said at last. "It could be." The statement settled heavily on the occupants of the drawing room, Snatchers shifting uncomfortably, the captured breathing panting heavily, breathing laboured. The Malfoy's dared not to breathe, as if such a mundane act could destroy the smallest flick of hope that was igniting within them.

Behind the prisoners, the drawing room doors opened, and a high, almost accusing voice sounded out, echoing against the walls. "What is this? What's happened, Cissy?" Bellatrix Lestrange moved within the room; slow languishing movements that were strangely sensuous. The raven-haired witch paused beside the boy that many hoped to be Harry Potter, yet her dark lidded eyes rested on the girl. "Little Mudblood," she greeted, her soft whispered caressing the air that it travelled on. It was a voice for a lover, one filled with dark promises of nights filled with pleasure. The girl shivered in revulsion, an act that Bella noted with a wide smile. "But surely," obsidian black eyes didn't leave the restrained girl, who involuntarily shuddered again under the press of dark eyes. "This is the Granger Mudblood? Potter's little friend?"

"It is!" Lucius exclaimed, urging himself closer to his sister-in-law. "And beside her, we think it's Potter – caught at last!" There was a moment of pause, where Bellatrix Lestrange finally managed to drag her gaze away from the Mudblood, long enough so to glance at the swollen face beside her. "Potter?" she shrieked, gazed raking over the plump, blistered face. "Are you sure?" she asked, but did not wait for an answer. "Well – the Dark Lord must be informed immediately." With flaming black eyes, Bella dragged back her left sleeve, exposing a pale, slender arm that held a thick coiling black mark. "I was about to call him!" The whine in Lucius Malfoy's voice made Bella pause, just before a large hand encircled her wrist, stopping her right hand from moving closer to her Mark. "I shall summon him Bella. Potter has been brought to my house, there for under my authority –"

"Authority?" Bella sneered, voice full of scorn. "What authority? You lost all authority when you lost your wand, Lucius. Take your hands off me at once!" The two figures snarled at each other, luminous blonde and shadowed onyx, two extremes of the spectrum, glaring, black eyes on grey. "You did not capture the boy –" Lucius argued, only to be cut of by a sudden interjection. "Begging your pardon Mr Malfoy," Greyback puffed out his chest. "But it was us that caught Potter. And it will be us claiming the gold…"

"Gold?" Bella laughed, though it sounded hollow as she tried to shake off Lucius' hand. "Take your gold, you filthy scavenger. What do I want with gold? I seek only the honour of his – of – " Her efforts of freedom ceased, dark eyes fixing on a ruby hilt that lay clasped within dirty hands. Noting her lack of fight, Lucius hungrily let go, ripping up his own sleeve. "Stop!" Bella's shrill shriek pierced through the room, causing Lucius to glance up with a wary expression. "What is that?" Bella whispered, already moving towards the sword, hands outstretched.

"A sword," one of the Snatchers grunted, yet the one who held it, backed away at Bella's approach, his eyes struggling to light up with defiance. "Give it to me," Bellatrix breathed, hand palm-up, waiting. The Snatcher shook his head. "It not yourn, Missus, I reckons I found it." Dark clouds rolled over the eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange, fleeting, but enough to warn the Snatcher. He was just about to offer it to the wild witch, but a jet of red light scent him flying, the sword clattering to the ground. Protests rose from the other Snatchers, one even drew their wand, demanding. "What are you playing at, woman?"

But even then, there was no stopping what had already been set in motion. The single word; Stupefy leaving Bellatix's mouth continuously, her wand flying in all directions, hitting its mark each time. They fell where they stood, crumpling towards the ground, a moment of preserved shock on their faces. All too soon, only one Snatcher remained, Greyback kneeling, head bowed as the small Bella bent over him, her face ashen, the ruby hilt gripped against white-knuckled hands. "Where did you get this?" Bellatrix hissed, yanking out the bent werewolf's wand from his yielding hand, dark eyes boring into him. Greyback snarled, his yellowed teeth bared. "How dare you?" he roared. "Release me, woman!"

"Where did you find this sword?" Bella demanded, ignoring his biting words completely. "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts!" Greyback struggled, but still couldn't find purchase under Bellatrix's charm. "In their tent - Release me, I say!"

Bella did, with a small, sharp flick of her wand. She turned her back on the wolf, dismissing him. "Draco," Bellatrix snapped. "Move this scum outside." She waved airily towards the unconscious men. "If you haven't got the guts to finish them, then leave them in the courtyard for me." Pale blue eyes turned, furious to Bellatrix, Narcissa's pale face abloom with colour. "Don't you dare speak to Draco like –"

"Be quiet," Bella hissed, her eyes glinting frostily. "This situation is graver than you could possibly imagine, Cissy! We have a very serious problem." Bella eyed the sword, her chest heaving. Pale fingers ran over the hilt, before gently brushing the line of the sword, skin teasing against the razor sharp line. Then her eyes turned, resting on the three silent prisoners. "The Dark Lord wishes to dispose of Potter himself…he must not be harmed. But until he find out…I must… I must know…" Address her sister, Bellatrix ordered. "The prisoners must be places in the cellar until I know what to do!"

When Narcissa started to protest, Bella snapped, her face twisting n anger. "Do it! You have no idea of the danger we are in!" A hiss escaped from Bella wand, causing a small line of smoking wisps to coil upwards, leaving a singe on the carpet. Finally, Narcissa sighed, looking reluctant as she turned to Greyback. "Take the prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback." Under her voice, Greyback stepped forward, ready to obey. "Wait," Bella smiled wickedly, a stretch of lips that barely concealed teeth. "All except … except for the Mudblood." The redhead began to protest, struggle. "No!" he roared. "You can have me, keep me!"

Ire washed over Bella, sharp and unsated. She glared at the Weasel boy; his cheeks flushed high in a rich colour, eyes wild. With a swift, sharp turn of her wrist, Bella heard the reverberating sound of her hand connecting with his amber stained cheek. "If she dies under questioning," Bella hissed lips close to the red print of her hand. "I'll take you next. Bloodtraitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them downstairs Greyback, and make sure that they are secure, but nothing more to them – yet." Carelessly, Bella threw the werewolf his wand, just before she reached within her robed, where a short silver knife lay strapped to her thigh.

Small pale fingers fisted into thick chestnut hair, whilst Bella savagely cut the Mudblood free of the roping bounds. The soft, frizzy stands gave way under the strength of Bellatrix's harsh tug as she brought the girl into the centre of the room, leaving Greyback to drag the remaining two back, widening the gap between them and Bellatrix's new play mate. "Hermione!" The Weasley roared, trying to fight, with no avail, eyes desperate as they stayed fixed on the motionless girl trapped in Bellatrix's arms. "Hermione!" Laughing softly, Bella bent her head, so that her lips brushed the soft skin behind Hermione Granger's ear. "Say goodbye," she whispered. "Chances are, you'll never see him again."

The softest of whimpers escaped Hermione's lips, a glistening sheen glazing her brown eyes as she watched with great melancholy at the closing doors, where Harry and Ron departed through. Bellatrix strokes the length of the young witch's jaw with the tip of her wand, eyes close as she thought. "Leave us," she said at last, not opening her eyes. There was no questioning such a voice, of trying to speak out against it. Obediently, the Malfoy family left Bellatrix Lestrange and Hermione Granger alone in the drawing room, already expecting to hear screams as they were leaving.

Yet, sometimes the silence isn't as comforting as one would first believe.

**Note:**

**Oh my sweet baby Jesus. That was one dragging chapter, eh? I had to do it, since it proves to be the basis of the whole story. So, yeah, set in the Deathly Hallows, when they're captured and taken to the Malfoy Manor. It is here where the book will change and I just hope you can bear with me. The next chapter is waaaay faster paced. **

**Oh, and hope the beginning didn't freak you out too much. Since Bella has such a, well, strong character, all I can think of is that she's got this S&M thing going on. I will try and be as delicate as I can with the situation, but I don't know whether the two will fall in love along the way, or just leave it as a sense of attraction. Think a balance of both. **

**Anyways, much love and hope the length made up for the like, paragraph pf te last XD**

**Xxxxx**

Lisa


	3. Chapter Two: Branded

Chapter Two: Banded

"_Children show scars like medals. Lovers use them as secrets to reveal. A scar is what happens when the word is made flesh."_  
- **Leonard Cohen **

* * *

Bella did not open her eyes for a long passing moment, taking time to relish the silence; it was like the clam before the storm, the air charged with expectance, humming, alive with it. This close, Bella could feel the rapid pulse of the little Mudblood, a caged thing inside of her, waiting to burst open. Her tiny gasps of air was almost excited in Bellatrix's ears, like she too anticipated what was to come. Bellatrix savoured this, the few moments she had, of the soft lulling sensation that rolled over her like waves. It wouldn't last, for there was a darker need within her that needed to be sated.

It was like all the time in the world has passed when Bella could finally open her eyes; sigh coming back to her in sharp clarity. The flames of the fire burned brighter, the purple on the walls bleeding in their richness. The vivid colours flamed, jarring at Bella's senses, hypnotic. Transfixed, Bella watched as the shadows of flames danced against the walls, heated fingers stretching up, pleading for purchase, for mercy. It reminded Bellatrix like the hands of the dead, their slick hands would reach out, trying to grasp life as the void of death pulled them closer.

The Mudblood's breathing hand returned to some semblance of normality. Bella could almost hear her thought, small flares of hope. She wanted to believe Bellatrix would free her, would somehow conjure a shred of humanity, that a glimmer of compassion was light deep in the abyss of Bellatrix Lestrange. A smile bloomed across Bella's lips, though the Granger girl could not see it. But the girl could sense a change, the sudden stillness in Bella's body, the way her wand froze in the middle of Hermione's cheek, digging into soft, flushed skin, of a hand flexing around silky brown curls.

"Just you and I, Mudblood." Bella whispered at last, the hand in Hermione's hair slowly moving down, like a gentle caress, a butterfly's brush of wings, so soft. It made Bella wonder if she was truly touching the girl at all. Pale fingers came to rest at the lining of the Granger girl's jaw, cupping the delicate bone with pallid fingers, the pressure of the tips growing, a threat, a promise. Under her touch, Hermione shivered, a slow raking of the body, trembling against Bella's. It was a movement that made Bellatrix's eyes close once more, languishing against the feel, of how it seemed to pass through her own body.

Despite being tight-lipped, a low moan escaped from her, eyes clenched shut, small beads of tears seeping from the corners. "Any last words?" Bella said at last, tightening her hold of Hermione, pulling her closer, two slight frame melded together, the soft purr sounding in the young witch's ear. "Before you scream?" It was then tat Hermione began to struggle, her small body thrashing about, desperately, wildly. She struck out any way she could, hands and nails, kick and screaming, just endless, wordless noise that crawled out of Hermione's throat. It sound itself sang to Bellatrix, harmonious, rising like a crescendo, sounding out through the still house.

Hermione wrenched herself from Bella's grasp, chestnut stands slipping through buzzing fingertips, diffused warmth lingering, yet slowly ebbing away. Mildly surprised, Bella glanced at the backing away figure, brown eyes wide, darting around the room, distraughtly searching of an escape. Her frantic look fell on the closed doors, her expression transparent, conveying her thoughts clearly to Bellatrix. It was a game of cat and mouse, of the hunter and the hunted. The trill of the chase coursing through Bella, fingers closing over the forgotten stands of hair that lay within her grasp, an animalistic smile etching across her lips.

Bellatrix stalked Hermione, echoing the Mudblood cautious, tentative steps. It was lethal dance, macabre, the wand in Bella's hand humming ominously, eagerly, drawing a deep gaze towards it. Bella watched with growing glee as genuine fear flashed across the Granger girl's face. It was waving red at a charging bull, taunting, teasing, tempting. Dark hungry eyes stared out from a luminous pale face, tendrils of black coils cascading down, faming the sender, shapely cheekbones and a full, parted mouth. A small pink tongue ran out such fullness of a mouth, moistening the ripeness, tasting the air, of drawing in the sweet, innocent scent of the girl.

Hermione ran for the door, pulse beating frantically against the veins that trapped it, contained it. It was like every nerve within her was alive, a feeling that crashed over her, sharp and bitter. And yet, it was the sweetest thing she had ever tasted, the feeling of just being alive. It was a feeling she wished to keep. There was enough distance between her and Bellatrix, that Hermione was sure that she could make it, at least into the hallway. On habit alone, a hand sought out her wand, yet found that there was nothing to clasp. She could see dark eyes watching her, waiting, enjoying every movement, savouring it the way some savour the taste of fine wine. That powerful rich heady hit at the back of your throat, the way dormant nerve endings are brought back to life. The heated, yet callous look in those dark eyes made Hermione want to run, to be at the mercy of anyone else other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her hand made contact with the smooth, polished brass of the door handle, he pulse echoing against it, erratic. Under her touch, the cool metal began to heat rapidly, until the stench of burning flesh filled Hermione's senses, informing her, moments too late. The pain came next, throbbing, like her body had absorbed all heat from the brass, her hand consuming it, the searing pain radiating out. A small hiss escaped her lips, for Hermione didn't dare scream, she knew what would happen if she did. She would not sign her own death warrant; she would not play Bellatrix's games.

Hermione didn't see Bellatrix approach, not until it was too late. But she felt it, felt it like a looming shadow, like the cold spill of death that hung over of those who lay suspended in two worlds, ready to depart one of them. She spun, loose hair flying wildly, her burnt hand aching as she flexed both into fists, as if physical combat could ward off magic. Under a dark veil of lashes, Bella's eyes looked amused, watching as the little girl clenched and unclenched her petite hands, chin unconsciously jutting out, expecting a blow, asking for it really. The defiance in such brown eyes suggested the little piece of filth could goad Bella into offering an easy, painless death. But no. There was a reason for Bella's games, always a reason. The sword had been stolen and the girl must suffer. After she told Bella just how she got those unworthy hands on the bejewelled weaponry.

"You think you can fight me?" Bella asked, her dark eyes boring into Hermione. Tsking, Bella shook her head. "You're a smart girl," she jeered, watching with mirth as brown depths filled with fire. "Surely you know when to give in?" Bella watched as soft, delectable lips curled back, a fierce, challenging look on the young girl's face. "I wouldn't want to give you the satisfaction," she spat, eyes flaming with hatred. A laugh bubbled out of Bellatrix's throat, a deep chuckle that shivered across Hermione's skin like a crisp, autumn breeze. Goosebumps erupted across her flesh, hardening. "By all means," Bella drawled. "Fight me." Her eyes willed Hermione to, the onyx abyss showing what lay within, of the darkness that lay in wait to be unleashed. "What I wouldn't give," Bella whispered, drawing closer, cornering her prey. "To feel you wither underneath me while I make you scream."

The moment the words left Bella's mouth, she could see it, feel it, taste it. The image came, unbidden and insistent, pressing against her. Coils of tension knotted deep, down to her core, her breath coming out sharp, eyes bleeding with a dark heat. While the image stayed with her, the purpose of the sword, of the Dark Lord, left Bella. The rest of the world seemed like white noise and yet somehow, everything was heightened, vivid. What stayed constant, immutable, was the girl. She stood by the door, inches away from Bella, her eyes flashing, yet an underlay of acknowledgement resided. She could tell that there was no hope, yet she would fight Bella, regardless. It made parts of Bellatrix flare to life, like a snake rearing its head after a slumber. A surge of need so sudden, so strong, that even magic could not get the girl close enough, fast enough.

Sharp nails dung into the tender flesh of Hermione's upper arm, the sting blazing to life as she struggled against the surprisingly strong grasp of such a small, almost delicate looking woman. Her skin broke; the razor nails popping the skin like film, a yielding substance against the force of Bellatrix. In a sudden movement, Hermione felt the drawing room spin, objects blurring into one as Bellatrix spun her sharply, then shoving her to the floor. The carpet burned against her back as momentum propelled the girl skid against thick woven material, eyes closed tight in a grimace of pain. Her hands automatically reached out, in an attempt to stop, her charred palm scraping across the unforgiving surface, a strangled cry leaving her.

The sensual swirl of dark robes was all Hermione saw before Bellatrix's body covered hers, her thighs clenched tight around Hermione's hips, one hand fisting in thick falls of hair, roughly pulling it to expose a unmarred throat, pristine while, perfect. Bella licked her lips again, dark eyes almost seeing the rapid temp of the girl's pulse, thick and fast, wet and throbbing. The thought made her hips arch, the feel of material grating against her swelling heat sending a shudder through her slim frame. Dark eyes travelled, roamed the large expanse that lay before her, of two pert swells of white flesh that peaked out from the hem of a non-descript shirt, a few stray curls coiling around the filled skin, as if to draw all eyes there.

Brown eyes looked up at Bella, wild and fearful, lips parted, chest constricting, as if to scream. The memory of such a sound made Bella's heat pool between her, hot and thick, a tangible, heady substance that she could taste on her tongue. It made Bella want to taste Hermione's fear, to have roll against her tongue, to dance within her mouth, to feast upon it. Her body ached, want to arch again the girls, to throw her head back, eyes closed, rapture ready to leave her body in one pure sound. But Bella willed herself not to. Instead, she leaned closer, lips a sliver away for the girls, the cloying tang of the girl within each sudden breath. Through parted lips, Bella drew her in, the aromatic sweetness of her. It was only mingled air, but it felt far too intimate, far too erotic.

There was something in the girl's eyes that made Bella pause, a look that unnerved her. She wanted, needed, fear. The rush, the expelling heated pleasure that rolled off her in waves, she craved it. But somewhere, down in a dark part of the girl, there was anticipation, Bella could feel it, feel it in the way that she laid motionless, yet breathed as though he too was building, rising also for the pinnacle. Bella bent her head, teeth scarping against the buttering skin, tongue flicking out to glide against her pulse, tasting a salty tang of sweat, under thick rivets of lemon. Eagerly, Bella looked up, hoping to see fear once more, but the dark glow within the girl's eyes was growing. Something within Bella stilled as she struggled to comprehend, but there was no time, her desire fading under her confusion.

Desperately, Bella clawed for her wand, her body brushing languishingly against the girls as she moved, thighs tightening involuntarily around her. Beneath her, Bella could feel the girl tremble. Gritting her teeth, Bellatrix struggled to hold on to her sanity, or lack of thereof, eyes clasping on the exposed, bare skin of Hermione's arm. Glancing back at the girl, Bella bore into those brown eyes, willing to fear to fill them, one last chance. But the dark eyes remained wide, aroused. She also looked confused, like Bella, she could not understand this. It wasn't how things were meant to be. For once, those mud eyes unable to flare with knowledge, just as clueless as the rest.

Mud eyes. Bella forced herself to look back at the virginal arm, unmarked, untouched. Mud eyes. Mud eyes. _Mudblood_. She was filth, unworthy, an abomination. She needed to remember that. _Bella_ needed to remember it. And Bellatrix would, for she would have a constant reminder etched into the soft, pliable skin of the girl. Slowly, deliberately, Bella flicked her wrist, her mind willing for the curse to come to the surface of her thoughts. Bella heard the hiss of skin singeing first, before the screams started. It was like a lullaby, the sound. A safe, comforting hymn. Carefully, Bella began to spell out the word, all the while feeling the body underneath thrashing, and no longer aroused, no longer searing with untapped desire.

Blood seeped through the marked lettering, running down white flesh, begging for Bella to draw it into her mouth, to savour the taste. The screams were more ragged now, mingled with sobs, like the girl could no longer contain them. Just big raking masses of despair, the soft wails, moans that allowed Bella to do what she did next. The jagged spelling of _Mudblood_ gleamed scarlet, flaring crimson riveting down like fallen tears. With half-closed eyes, Bella bent down, her lips meeting the rip of skin, tongue running over the charred flesh, lapping up warm blood before slowly, like entering a lover, her tongue slid into the parted skin, the feel of chaste muscle brushing against the corrupt wickedness of Bella's tongue made her moan, liquid sex pooling thick and fast once more between her thighs, her body slowly moving itself against Hermione's hipbone.

Bella moved away, her eyes glaze a heated glow, lips stained red with Hermione's blood as she looked down at the girl, small white teeth scraping the traces of the girl from her lips, drawing her in while she gazed up, watching. Bella leaned close once more, hungry for that touching of tongues, but the sound of the doors opening made her sill, an almost guilty look on her face. "Bella?" Narcissa glazed uncertainly into the room, eyes widening when she saw her sister straddling the prisoner, a trickle of blood smeared at the corner of her lips. "I thought you killed her," she said at last, expression carefully controlled. Bella blinked, looking from her sister to the girl. "Not quite," She muttered, looking away from both pairs of eyes, unable to meet them.

With less grace than what she would have liked, Bella rose, noting how the Granger girl did not, but just lay there, against the carpet, looking dazed, torn, uncertain. "Fix her up," Bella snapped, turning to her sister in a sudden moment to anger. "She still must be questioned. Have her ready and well," Bella obsidian glare turned to Hermione, "Tomorrow she will tell me just how she got her hands on that sword." Bella's heels echoed as she walked, leaving the two, only Narcissa's voice making her pause. "Do I take her back to the dungeons?" she asked, watching her sister with cautious eyes. Bella thought, her tongue running along the length of her lips in consideration. "No," she said finally. "Put her in the room next to mine. If I am unsatisfied with her story, then I will ask the Weasel boy. I do not want them fabricating some elaborate fantasy in an attempt to fool me. No, keep her apart from the others."

Bella glance over her shoulder at the motionless girl, who gazed up at the ceiling as if it held all the answers in the world. With a sneer, Bellatrix taunted. "Pleasant dreams, witchling," Her dark eyes roamed the still body, disdain within their depths. "We'll see if you can last until the morning, shall we?"

* * *

**Note:**

**(Okay-then. So, what do you think? I'll admit, I had a wee bit of inspiration for this chapter: ****.com/watch?v=7WXDm5Ld3F4**

**Check it out if you have the time XD**

**Anyways, I would LOVE your thoughts, questions, any advice or whatever)**

**Much love mi ninas **

**xxxxx**


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